Chapter 3: The Parasite's Panic
Cynthia’s jaw dropped, her expensive diamond earrings shaking against her neck. "What?! You're throwing me out? For her? I’ve been your daughter for twenty-five years! I went to the galas! I managed the foundation!"
"You managed to funnel two million dollars from the foundation into your personal offshore accounts last year, Cynthia," Eleanor said, not even lifting her voice. "Did you really think I didn't see the audit? I tolerated your greed because I thought I had no one else to leave the legacy to. But the real bloodline is home now. Thomas, escort her to the gate."
"This isn't over!" Cynthia screamed, her aristocratic composure completely shattering as two security guards stepped onto the landing behind her. "You think you can just replace me? That baby she’s carrying is a Vance! Julian Vance’s blood runs in that child’s veins! He will sue you for every cent of child support, and I’ll help him do it!"
The security guards moved her quickly down the back hallway, her screaming fading into the heavy structure of the mansion.
I looked down at my hands, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over me. Cynthia was right about one thing—Julian was a monster, and he wouldn't just sit quietly while his unborn child became the heir to a fifty-billion-dollar empire. He would use the pregnancy as leverage.
"Don't listen to her, Clara," Eleanor said, kneeling beside my chair, her hands resting gently over mine. "Julian Vance thinks he’s a clever legal strategist because he handled a small-town divorce court. He has no idea how the Sterling legal apparatus operates. By tomorrow morning, his family firm won't even own the desks they sit behind."
Right on cue, Mr. Han, Eleanor's chief financial intelligence officer, stepped into the foyer holding a encrypted digital tablet.
"Madam," Mr. Han reported, bowing to Eleanor. "The five o'clock deadline has passed. Julian Vance failed to wire the ten million dollars to our asset management branch. The default notice has been registered with the state commerce pool."
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"Excellent," Eleanor smiled, a cold, predatory expression that made her look like a queen preparing for an execution. "Initiate the immediate seizure of Vance Development Group. Shut down their active construction sites, freeze their payroll accounts, and notify the banks that their personal residences are now under federal lien."
She looked back up at me, her smile turning entirely warm. "Let's go have some tea, my darling. The demolition of your past has officially begun."
